


November

by neverevesangel



Category: No Fandom, Original Work
Genre: Poetry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-10
Updated: 2020-11-10
Packaged: 2021-03-09 03:07:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 173
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27497671
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/neverevesangel/pseuds/neverevesangel
Summary: A poem I scribbled down a day after discovering November by Max Richter. Themes of time passing and age (and dementia if you squint really hard).





	November

On spring days gone by you have longed for this  
A blanket, a fire, a book  
Like a promise you thought it was waiting for you  
The north lights, the blizzards, the cottage for two  
And the howling of wolves in the woods

You think of the nights when you dreamed of this  
When the summer sun never set  
And the birds and the crickets were singing for you  
Of the snow and the fire that waited for you  
And the tracks in the river bed

And some autumn eves were spent talking of this  
And you told them your comforting lies  
You've spoken of stillness, of peace and of rest  
But not of the pain that you felt in your chest  
Or the shape of the wolf on the ice

As your days turn to winter you're finding in this  
The silence of fading to grey  
There's a wolf at your window that's staring at you  
At your blanket, your book, and your cottage for two  
And November is coming to stay

**Author's Note:**

> I have several versions of the final verse but cannot decide which one I like best.
> 
> Much of what I had in my head when I sat down to write this did not explicitly make it into any of the verses. It was the echo of Max Richter's November, and the image of a wolf looking directly at the camera, and I was thinking that wolves can look terribly sad and that's what I was picturing here.
> 
> Imagine a lonely cottage in a valley that's totally snowed in, covered in a perfect blanket of white. The valley lies in the embrace of mountains with the shadow of forests at their feet. You've spent your life dreaming of growing old in that valley with someone you love, in a cottage for two, with a good book by the fireside. But your lover dies young and your own mind is fading, and your memories are blending in with the snow until the people of your past are faceless and out of the pure white steps the wolf and you realise that he's all that remains.


End file.
